To Infinity
by frankielouwho
Summary: Sequel to Waste of an Arrow. A year later, Carl and Lizzie are together (kind of) and doing what they can to keep strong and pass the time. When the prison is compromised, will they survive on their own and find their people, or will the elements - and walkers - get the better of them?
1. Chapter 1

**To Infinity**

**By: FrankieLouWho**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except for a non-running Ford Taurus and a bunch of comic books. Walking Dead belongs to smarter, richer folks.**

**A/N: Hello guys! I hope you enjoyed Waste of an Arrow. This is a sequel, of sorts. It's set in the same universe as WOAA, but it's totally readable as it's own story. As long as you can stand a bit of Bethyl in the background... Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this. It's a pleasure to write these two, though I'm sure they won't be happy with me for a while... *evil grin* Please read and review, let me know what you think. I'm hoping this will be a good long ride! **

**Without further ado, read on!**

Chapter One

"Lizzie, wake up."

Groaning, the small blonde rolled onto her stomach, face diving into her pillow. Carl Grimes chuckled, hands on his hips as he watched. He was attempting to be quiet, not wake up Mika in the bunk about Lizzie's - but it was a well known fact to Carl that the little girl could sleep through anything. A hundred walkers could pass through the prison and she would be sawing logs on her narrow cell bed, dreaming little girl dreams, smiling in her sleep. It wasn't that she was untouched by everything going on around them. Carl knew that it was different for them, the younger crowd of their prison home. They had less memories of before, so the reality of the dead rising and walking and eating them wasn't as horrifying. It was the only reality they really knew.

"C'mon," Carl said. He leaned forward, grasping Lizzie's warm, bony shoulder. It was summer time again, which meant tank-tops and shorts for her. More soft, tan skin revealed to his hungry eyes. He brushed the thought off as he tried to wake her up. It would be dawn soon, and the heat of the southern Georgia summer days would press upon them shortly. He wanted to get them up and moving before all of that. She'd thank him, later.

"Can't we have a day off?" Lizzie whined, and Carl smiled through his annoyance. Lizzie hadn't changed much in the year at the prison. Well, maybe that wasn't true.

She'd grown a few inches, certainly. She was as tall as Beth now, and the two were sharing clothes like regular girlfriends in the before days. Lizzie was turning into a gorgeous girl - Carl hadn't _always_ thought so, but the majority of the time he'd known her, he called her pretty. But that wasn't even the right word for it anymore. Her big brown eyes, plump pink lips, and the round cheeks of her face made his heart flutter. Seeing her prominent collar bones, she barely-there flare of her hips, made _more_ than his heart flutter. The year that they had been best friends, and more than that - kissing and sneaking into each other's rooms, though it was always innocent - made Carl's feelings for her run so much deeper...

"I'm up," Lizzie said before Carl could begin in on her. He helped her out of bed, pulling down her blankets as she stretched and twisted like a cat. Yawning, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed, slipping her socked feet into her sneakers. They'd made a good run, just around Christmas time before the snow started to fall. The girls thought it was important, now that they were a family here in the prison, and they were stable with no intentions of leaving, to celebrate Christmas.

Carl grinned at the memory. It was so easy to overlook those little things, the little things that somehow added up in the long run. They had a Christmas tree even, with make-shift decorations and then one morning, when they decided it was Christmas day (give or take - it was all an estimation, really), they sat around and opened presents. It was good, in a weird and sad way. Carl had gotten a new gun, new holster. Things that would fit him for a good long while, that he wouldn't out-grow. Lizzie got a pair of hot-pink Nike's that were just a smidge too big at the time - now they fit, and with everything that they had been doing, were already looking ragged. She'd gotten other things too, all of the kids had gotten a good haul. Carl hadn't been invited along on the "shopping" trips. Mostly Beth, Maggie, and Sasha had done it all - with help from the guys.

Lizzie scrubbed a hand over her face, willing away the sleep, and Carl grabbed her elbow to haul her up. She wasn't a morning person, but Carl wasn't afraid of her grumpiness. He missed a scowl she sent him before turning her back to slip into a loose T-shirt. He tried not to watch, but couldn't control his eyes from cutting to her a couple times.

After too long, they were finally trudging out to the prison yard. The outer fence was working over-time, bent and ragged in a few places. They were still trying to figure out what to do, how to make it stronger. Walkers had breached it, more than just once, and they were lucky. With all of the extra guards they had perched around, keeping vigilant watch, it was safer. Better.

"Lets try ten miles today," Carl said, and Lizzie nodded. Now that she was awake, she was much more agreeable. They stretched, and he was impressed as always with her flexibility. His limbs could never bend and stretch like her's. Soon, they were jogging around the perimeter, ignoring the groans and reaching hands poking through the chain-link. The walkers were just as hungry as ever. There were just as many, if not _more_, than before. They were different though, sluggish, and would soon meet their end when the rest of the prison woke and began their daily chores.

It took a lot to keep their prison going. Fortifying the fences, culling the dead off of it in two shifts - one in the morning, one in the evening - hunting, laundry, keeping the children occupied... With Carol gone, after the terrible thing she did, that responsibility fell onto Beth's small shoulders. She was good though, never complaining. _"We all got jobs here." _It was her mantra, the words she clung to when the going got tough. Carl was glad that she and Daryl had each other - it was always good when they had someone to come back to, someone to keep them going.

Glancing at Lizzie, her blonde ponytail bobbing with each step she took, Carl was glad that _he_ had someone to keep him going. Other than his father and Judith. He would always do whatever it took to keep them safe, protect them and make them happy. But having Lizzie was a different thing, completely...

* * *

After their run, they sparred. Lizzie was getting really good at knocking Carl on his ass, which was her favorite. Well, aside from feeling his hands on her body, even if he was trying to knock her down, too. Sparring was better than running, which Lizzie despised. But Carol had told her a long time ago that there was no shame in surviving - even if that meant running, as far and fast as she could, to get away from danger. All this time that she and Carl had been training had prepared her for that. She could run a very long time before getting tired now, and her legs were long and strong. She knew that Carl liked them - she'd busted him checking her out too many times to remember them individually.

Finally, after the sun had been up for a while and they were both sweating through their T-shirts, which had nothing to do with the summertime heat, they took a break. Lizzie gulped the water in her canteen, then passed it to Carl as she swiped a hand over her mouth. She knew she looked a mess, could feel her hair plastered to her neck and face, sticky and sweaty, but it didn't matter. Carl was just as flushed, just as sweaty, and they sat together on a wooden picnic table, catching their breath.

"You're gettin' better," Carl said, giving her a side-ways smile between drinks.

"Better than you, for sure," Lizzie quipped, earning a light shove. She laughed, tipping her head back and stretching her long legs out. They had been doing this - the training, that is - for a long time now. Ever since Beth and Michonne were taken, Carl had taken such a protective and possessive stance on Lizzie's safety that it was sweet as well as suffocating. When he first suggested that they start training, she'd been flummoxed.

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Lizzie asked uncertainly, when Carl brought up the subject. She knew that she wasn't, had always been a skinny kid and their rations and all of the activity left her thinner than ever. Her hip-bones stuck out, and her ribs could have served as a weird cannibal xylophone. But Carl's opinion mattered, and a lead brick settled in her belly as she waited for his answer.

"No! Jesus, Lizzie," Carl said, rolling his eyes. "You aren't fat. That's not why I think we should train together."

"_Okay_," Lizzie said, unsure. Her big brown eyes gazed up into his, searching for his meaning, feeling insecure and small all over again.

"We have to make sure that you can fight," Carl said after a long pause. It was hard to read his face sometimes - he took after Daryl in that sense. Both could be so aloof and so distant. Daryl didn't intimidate her anymore... Not much, anyway. It was easier, with Carl stealing his habits. "I need to know that you're going to be able to protect yourself, if something happens. That if people try to take you from me, that you'll be able to hold your own, hold out, to keep strong."

"No one is going to take me -"

"You don't know that!" Carl had cried. His cheeks were flushed and she thought that she saw the faint glimmer of tears swimming in his eyes. Lizzie could remember how angry he had seemed, how scared she was. Scared, but also touched that he was so worried about her. "No one thought Beth was going to get taken, remember? But that happened."

Lizzie had nodded, agreeing silently. It was so frightening - not that Beth had been taken, but Michonne. The tall, dark woman with the dreads and the katana was the fiercest thing she'd ever seen. If Michonne could be kidnapped, taken by those men, then anyone could. She didn't understand why Carl was so fired up about it, but she found herself agreeing. He wasn't the greatest with words, but his emotions were laid bare. It was rare for that to happen, and Lizzie couldn't say no when he did that.

So she agreed. A year later, she was fast, and her arms and legs were toned with muscle. Rick had helped them with the gun stuff, insisting that no one would want the kids out shooting on their own - even if _he_ knew that Carl was more than handy with his pistol. It turned into a group thing, practice shooting at glass bottles and empty tin cans. It was fun, once Lizzie could hit a target on more than chance. There was a time when she was afraid of weapons. Now, she was as comfortable holding a revovler as she was holding Judith. Only, the former made her feel safer.

"Wanna see if we can help on the fence today?" Carl asked. All Lizzie wanted was to crawl back into bed and get a few more hours of sleep. However, now that she was up and the prison was beginning to wake, the tell-tale sounds of clatter and conversation from inside reaching their ears, she knew that wouldn't happen. After breakfast, they would disperse into the daily chores. Lately, Carl had been wanting them to do the physical stuff, insisting that Lizzie tag along with him.

"You know I don't think of them as people anymore," Lizzie said, quirking an eyebrow at him. Carl blushed, and she smiled. She was right. He was keeping her at the fence, killing walkers, to remind her that they weren't people or pets. She had given that line of thinking up a while ago. Before they had first kissed, probably. It was annoying, but sweet, that he was trying to toughen her up. The training, the long conversations about what they would do if the prison was breached, _for real_. Over-run so they would need to make a hasty escape. It was good to have a plan, it was good to be confident in her body's capabilities. She couldn't thank him enough for whipping her into shape. But sometimes... Sometimes, he needed to remember that the life they were trying to build here wasn't supposed to be ruled by threat. They were working to keep the prison safe so they would have a semblance of normalcy, or what little shreds they could catch of it.

"I know," Carl said, nodding. His dark hair was a shaggy mess, and Lizzie reached up to brush it out of his eyes. She flashed her a smile, making her heart clench in her chest. It was silly that _that_ still happened, after a year. If anything, her feelings were even stronger. Growing deeper. He was so tall now, and while he was skinny, he was all lean muscle. He trained more than Lizzie did, when she wasn't around. Lifting, moving things, doing whatever he could to keep himself ready for a fight. His biceps stretched the sleeves of his T-shirts, shoulders filling out quite nicely. He was hard under her hands, when she hugged him. It excited her in a foreign, unknown way. Sent a thrill through her body, made her stomach burn.

"Anyway, I don't want to kill walkers today.I just finally got the blood out of my hair from last time," she teased, and leaned into him. It was innocent, but it made her entire body shift from 'joking' to... Well, sure wasn't sure. But the tingle where their skin met made her breath catch. She didn't want to glance into Carl's face to see if he was feeling the same, or if he'd heard her involuntary gasp. Instead, she felt his arm loop around her shoulders and hold her tightly to his sweaty side for a moment, before he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"That's fine," he said. Lizzie closed her eyes, savoring the sweet moment, before sitting back. "You can be on baby-duty."

Groaning, but with a smile on her face, Lizzie let Carl pull her from the picnic table as they headed back into the prison. _They all have jobs to do_, Lizzie thought, remembering Beth's words. If Carl's job was to protect _her_, then Lizzie's job was to do the same. She was happy here. Everyone was.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

She'd been dreaming again, that awful, horrible dream. Shaking slightly as she wiped tears from her face, Lizzie blinked at the bottom of her sister's bunk above her. Mika never had bad dreams - if she did, she never woke in the middle of the night crying and trembling and sweating. Shaking her head, pushing her hair off her face, Lizzie slipped from beneath the light quilt she used in the summer months and tip-toed from her cell. It was dark, the only noises around her were those of the people sleeping. The occasional grunt, snore, mumbling would reach her ears, but it wasn't anything she could make out. Lizzie paused when she heard a throaty moan, and shook her head with an absent smile. Well, _most_ noises in the night were sleep noises. Some weren't.

She wasn't concerned with who got together anymore. After playing matchmaker for Beth and Daryl, she'd thrown up her hands in surrender. There were more important things to worry about now, and she was too old to do those things anymore. As fun as it was when she couldn't sleep, imagining all the people in their prison paired up and happy in love... She didn't do that anymore.

Plus, she had her own love life to worry about.

When she reached Carl's cell, she could make out his sleeping form on the cot. It was darker at his end of the prison, and with the privacy sheet tacked up, almost completely black. But her eyes were adjusted, and Lizzie smiled softly at the sight of him sleeping. Even in his sleep, he was all boy. Arms akimbo, one foot peeking out of the blanket. She crept through the opening in the sheet and pulled back his blanket, nudging him over.

It had been a while since they did this. It was an unspoken kind of thing, Lizzie thought. After Rick busted them in their secret spot, gave them the lecture about how if they were going to be kissing and _adult stuff_, they had to act like adults. No more sneaking around. They had to keep it out in the open, where they could be supervised. At first, Lizzie had been angry - but in the end, Carl had reassured her that they could keep the grown ups happy while managing to find time by themselves together. But they stopped sneaking off into hidden places, she stopped crawling into his bed. It was better that way, Lizzie had sadly surmised.

But tonight, after her dream, she needed this. She needed him. It was obvious that Carl was her protector, that he would keep her safe. Anyone in the prison with eyes could see that the two were close, that they were sweet on each other. Carl's dark hazel gaze was often on Lizzie. Where Carl was, she often was his following shadow. The old biddies thought it was adorable, and sweet. Lizzie had to pinch Carl a few times to keep his temper, when he wanted to mouth off to them.

"They'll be dead soon anyway," Lizzie reminded him. The older folks didn't last long in the extreme temperatures of winter or summer, easily fell sick and often were too weak to fight off the common cold. "Let them smile about us." He had grunted (so like Daryl) and nodded silently, before yanking Lizzie off to do whatever.

In the darkness of his prison cell bedroom, Lizzie felt immediately better. Her tense shoulders relaxed, and she curled awkwardly around his strong, warm body. Her face in the crux of his shoulder, inahling the insanely good smell of Carl Grimes. Sweat, dirt, but something else beneath all of that. She snuggled into him, tossing a leg around his, and sighed. Lizzie was right - she always was - this was precisely what she needed...

Until she felt him tense up beneath her, his breathing went erratic.

"It's just me," she whispered, twisting up to cup his cheek in one hand. Carl stilled, and relaxed back into the bed for a moment. An arm came up to rub her shoulder, and she watched his eyes begin to droop shut again, smiling softly in the darkness at how adorable he was. Half-awake, he wasn't worrying about anything, just touching her sweetly... Before he blinked and jerked, sitting up quickly. Lizzie slipped to his side, losing balance, and fell onto the hard floor with a quiet "oomph."

"What are you doing?!" Carl exclaimed, glaring at her splayed on the floor. Rolling her eyes, Lizzie dusted herself off and slipped back into bed, pushing him down with her.

"I had a nightmare," she mumbled. He was stiff as a board beneath her, and she sighed impatiently and rolled her eyes. "If you're uncomfortable, I can go -"

"No," Carl said. He shifted so that his arm held her to his chest, and he patted her back awkwardly. "It's ok. Just... We haven't done this in a long time."

"I know," Lizzie said, giggling. "I kinda missed it, ya know?"

"Yeah," Carl said. His voice was deep, husky, and it sent a thrill down her spine. Lizzie shivered. They fell into silence, but Lizzie knew he wasn't sleeping - she could tell by the rigid muscle under her fingers. She traced patterns over his T-shirt, cozy and cuddled up, not close to being sleepy. Maybe coming into his cell wasn't the _brightest_ idea, but she was happy that she had. With Carl, it was hard to not be happy.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Carl asked after a few long moments. Lizzie sighed into his neck, and shook her head. She gazed at the pale column of his throat, suddenly fascinated with the skin there. She'd never paid a lot of attention to his neck, but now she couldn't take her eyes off it. Smiling, she carefully pressed her lips to the warm skin, feeling his pulse jump beneath her lips. She heard his gasp, almost quiet enough to be ignored... But then his fingers clamped on her bicep, and she smiled and repeated the action. Little kisses dropped onto the warm flesh, and Carl help perfectly still under her attention. His breath came out in fast little pants, and Lizzie smiled as she nosed his chin.

"Haven't done this in a while, either," she murmured. His other hand came up to cup her round cheek, tipping her head back. His lips were soft and gentle on her mouth. He meant to be sweet, she thought. Lizzie had other intentions.

In a flash, she was on top of him. Legs on either side of his belly, fingers tangling in his dark, shaggy brown hair. Her lips were firm and she tilted her head, slanting their lips to deepen the kiss. When her tongue traced over his chapped lips, Carl groaned softly and opened to her. It reminded her of the time they were busted by Rick, out on their secret ledge...

"Lizzie," Carl gasped, pushed her back a few centimeters. He was breathing hard, his pupils dark and black and so deep they made her dizzy. Or maybe it was the kisses, Lizzie realized, that were making her head spin. Either way, she was on top of him and his hands were on her hips, holding her still and tight enough to leave bruises. She bruised easily, but Carl's grasp was firm.

Before she realized she was doing it, Lizzie switched territory and peppered kisses down his throat again. How could skin taste so good? Salty and warm. Her tongue and teeth and lips were all over him, and Carl threw his head back to give her better access. She was frenzied, kissing and sucking, _biting_. Where the hell was this coming from? Fire burned in her veins and her body was aching, wanting, and she didn't know what it needed. She never felt this before, never experienced this rush that fanned out from her middle. It wasn't like anyone explained stuff like this to her. She was going to have to figure it all out on her own...

"Oh Lord," Carl breathed. He was trembling, grip shifting. One hand traced down her spine, making her arch and little sounds to leave her mouth, too. When she reached his collar bone, tracing her tongue over the delicate bones and hard muscle, he pushed her back.

"Whats wrong?" Lizzie asked. Her eyes were wide, fearful. Maybe all that wiggling had been him trying to get her to stop - maybe he didn't like what she was doing -

"Just," Carl said, panting slightly, "let me catch my breath." He smiled at her, and it was impossible to not smile in return. The panic in her heart ebbed slightly, but the fiery frenzy within her was still pusling, running through her veins and boiling her blood. His hands released her, sliding down to her strong thighs, and he rested them there.

"Y'ok?" Lizzie asked, and Carl nodded quickly. "Did it..." She blushed, and was thankful for the darkness as heat creeped up her shoulders and neck to her cheeks. "Was it ok?"

"Better than ok," Carl reassured her. Sitting up, he hugged her body into his and kissed her lips, softly. "Just not the right time."

Lizzie didn't know what he meant by that, but the feeling of comfort she found in his strong arms was enough to silence her. She tucked her head under his chin, soothed by the fast though steady beating of his heart. She clung to him, enjoying how solid and strong he felt, and closed her eyes. The fury in her body started to recede, and with it's disappearance, she felt sleepy.

"Its ok," Carl said, pulling her down to hold her. There wasn't as much room in the bed as there had been when they were younger, but they found a comfortable way to tangle together. "Get some sleep. We're gonna do fifteen miles in the morning."

Lizzie was suddenly too tired to protest. Instead, she let her mind drift, and let sleep envelope her.

* * *

Carl was more than thankful for the long run in the morning. His body was on fire after Lizzie slipped into his room last night. The way she kissed him, the feel of her soft, moist lips dragging over his throat made him shiver, even in the warm morning sunlight. She was scared, and he had an image of her as a little girl. It wasn't that long ago, but it felt like lifetimes. Crawling into his bed, kissing him like that - Lizzie was definitely _not_ a little girl.

He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind as he ran. Carl knew that he was pushing himself harder than necessary, but it was in hopes that it would alleviate the frustration of the previous night. Lizzie was infuriating, and her stupid mouth was going to get her into trouble. He always knew it. Carl just assumed it would be due to speaking, not... _Kissing_. But what she even kissing him? Because it felt very different to have her licking and biting his neck in the middle of the night, with her light weight on top of him. In the darkness. Did he mention the darkness? Because it was very dark and very late and he was half awake.

_Shouldn't have let it get that far_, he thought. As soon as he woke up with her in his bed, he should have told her to go back to her room, that Mika was unprotected without her there... Any stupid excuse was good enough, better than letting her push the boundaries of their physical relationship.

Honestly, there was nothing keeping them from going too far. It would be easy enough... But Carl knew better. He could still remember when Lizzie declared that she wasn't going to lose her virginity in some dusty old prison. She wanted flowers and candles and romance and a canopy bed like a goddamn princess. Things had changed, but Carl had always imagined it that way for her. He wanted to give her more, and he wanted to give her those things when they were _older_. He was still a teenager, and while that didn't really mean anything... He didn't feel like a man yet. Didn't feel old enough to be doing those things that plagued his dreams and haunted his waking moments. Carl loved Lizzie, even though they hadn't said anything like that to each other before, and he knew that she deserved a lot more than he could give her _now_.

Part of the fight to keep her alive, to make her strong and confident and able to fight, was to keep her surviving until Carl was a man, and Lizzie was a woman, and they could be together like that. Like adults. He knew better than anyone that tomorrow was never promised, but they were making it. They were living, and they were beginning to do things that none of them imagined. Like celebrating Christmas, like seeing Judith toddle on two legs around the prison. They'd even had a small ceremony for Maggie and Glenn, hadn't they?

It was small. But small things added up. Carl knew that it was simply a matter of time, for him and Lizzie. And with the way things were going, they were beginning to get back all the time they had thought they lost, or were losing. He didn't want to die a virgin, but he didn't want to use that excuse for everything that he wanted. He knew better.

When they finished the loop and were in front of the prison gate again, Carl kept going, but Lizzie bent over, hands on her knees. Knees that were soft and warm under his hands, last night. Carl shook his head, desperate to get the thought from his brain.

"I can't go anymore," Lizzie panted. Carl nodded - they'd done ten and some change, and it was good enough for today. They'd work up to fifteen, like they'd worked up to ten. Carl handed her their water bottle, and Lizzie gulped greedily between panted breaths. It dribbled down her chin, a bead sliding down her throat... Carl gulped.

"Maybe if you weren't up all night," Carl teased, after a few moments. Lizzie glared at him, but cracked into a grin. She smiled easier than anyone he knew, and Carl was grateful. Seeing her smile was the highlight of his day. Or highlights.

"I seem to remember you were up pretty late as well," Lizzie quipped, kicking up dirt at him. Carl chuckled and shook his head, and together they started up the track towards their home. She was watching him out of the corner of her eye, and Carl knew the look well. She was trying to hold back from saying something, which was either going to anger him or annoy him. He sighed dramatically.

"What?"

Lizzie bit her lip, chewed it over a moment, before saying, "I really liked last night."

"Yeah?" Carl asked, gazing at her. He didn't miss the blush that turned her cheeks a deeper shade of red.

"Yup." She nodded. "I liked it a lot."

"Me too," Carl said. He was going to go on - tell her that they had to knock it off, they couldn't keep testing his resolve to wait. The incentive of making love to her, in a few years, was half of his fight to keep them both alive. No, that made him sound like a creep, and it was more than just _sex_ that kept him going, but that was part of it. He could barely untangle the thoughts in his head, making him blush and stutter and feel like a little kid again, with Shane glaring down at him making him feel stupid and small.

"Good," Lizzie said, nodding. "'Cause I'm gonna do it again. And you're going to do it to me -"

"Lizzie!" Carl exclaimed, stopping dead in his tracks.

"What?" she asked, hands on her hips defiantly. "Like you don't _want_ to."

"That's not it -" Carl shook his head, reaching to put a hand on her shoulder. Jesus, this girl. For a moment, Carl wished that he had found another person to love, someone less blunt and outspoken with a milder imagination and shyer disposition... But knew that wasn't possible. Not anymore.

Lizzie opened her mouth to argue some more, but the sight of Rick approaching, his cheerful, friendly wave, made her snap her lips shut and flush again.

"Hey," Rick said. His blue eyes flicked between them, sensing the tension, taking in Carl's hand on her shoulder. "You two ok?"

"Yeah," Lizzie said, shrugging Carl off of her. "Just tellin' Carl that if he doesn't pick up his pace, I'm gonna leave him and the biters in my dust." She smiled up at him sweetly, and Rick chuckled at her fiery attitude. Carl rolled his eyes, dropping his hands to his hips impatiently.

"Yeah right," Carl said. "Weren't you the one tapping out?"

"Doesn't mean I'm not faster," Lizzie retorted, jutting her chin up. Rick shook his head, laughing at their argument, before throwing his hands up.

"I'll let you two have it out, then," he said, before squeezing Carl's shoulder and passing them by, down to the watch tower. They both watched him go, glad to see him in good spirits. His father had come a long way in the past year, Carl knew. No longer second-guessing, no longer freaking out... Death was never a good thing, but time could soothe the pain, or at least dull it to a functioning amount.

"You're so full of it," Carl remarked, eyes snapping from his father's retreating back to her pretty face.

"Race ya to breakfast, then," Lizzie said, taking up stance. Carl shook his head, laughing already, before she could count them off. That was the nice thing about Lizzie Samuels, he decided. One minute she was mad, the next she was playful. He'd take that over anything else, any day of the week.


End file.
